


What to do when your spork son asks too many questions

by SallyLovette



Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyLovette/pseuds/SallyLovette
Summary: Toys can't be dads, except for sometimes.





	What to do when your spork son asks too many questions

“How am I breathing?” Forky takes deep, exaggerated breaths that Woody would probably find annoying if he wasn’t such a patient toy. Usually, he does his best to answer his son’s questions (no matter how inane), but there are times, like now, that he doesn’t know how. He sighs, trying to concentrate on the itinerary he’s supposed to be writing. 

Forky breathes obnoxiously through his mouth. 

“I don’t even have lungs. Or a nose. Wait, can I breathe with my mouth closed?” 

Woody puts the crayon down and rubs his face. “Isn’t it time for your nap?”

Forky pretends not to have heard him. Woody is well familiar with the concept of selective hearing, after watching Andy (and, to a lesser extent, Molly) grow up. He lets it slide this time. 

Forky pipes back up after a minute or two.

"Is Bonnie my mom?" 

Woody taps the crayon against the paper, momentarily forgetting what he’d been about to write. “Kind of.” 

“And you’re my dad?” 

“Kind of.” 

“So who’s your dad?” 

Woody thinks about it. “Maybe... Andy?” He frowns. “Wait, no. That’s weird.” 

“Who’s Andy?” 

“You know Andy.” 

“Your owner before Bonnie?” Forky waddles over to Woody on his popsicle-stick legs. “How old are you?” 

Woody gives up on his itinerary, leans back, and allows Forky to flop into his lap. “Pretty old,” he says. 

“Are you the oldest toy in the world?” 

“Darn tootin’.” 

“When are you gonna die?” 

Woody smiles bemusedly. “You lookin’ to be the new sheriff around these parts?” 

“No. I’m just wondering.” 

“Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Woody picks Forky up and sets him on his feet. “Believe it or not, your old man doesn’t have all the answers.” 

“But Buzz said you know everything.”

Woody is amused, but not surprised. “Did he really?” 

Forky nods earnestly. “He said you’re the smartest toy he’s ever met.” 

“Well—”

“And the bravest.” 

“W—”

“And the handsomest.” 

Woody pokes Forky where he knows he’s ticklish. “Now, you’re making that up.” 

Forky twists away, laughing. “Yeah.” 

“Well, I don’t know about all that other stuff, but handsome? You bet.” 

“Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren’t you married?” 

“Toys don’t get married.” 

“Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head—” 

“Were made for each other.” 

“Like Barbie and Ken?” 

“Exactly.” 

“I think you and Buzz should get married.” 

Woody stands, picking Forky up. “I think it’s definitely time for your nap.” 


End file.
